


In the AM

by DrummerDancer



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrummerDancer/pseuds/DrummerDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaiba expects their first time to be loud and possibly violent, but it's unexpectedly a quiet affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the AM

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: First time sex

They do it on a Saturday morning, after the late night drivers have skittered off the road but before the early birds finish their first cup of coffee. The halls in the mansion are dark, curtains pulled over floor-to-ceiling windows as Kaiba reckons it’s best they don’t alert his staff to what they’re up to. 

 

Kaiba would love to do it in every room of the house. In the kitchen—where he would paint Yami’s skin with reds and blues, with berries and sugars fit for royalty, leave stains for days and nights. On his arms, his legs, his face, his chest—every inch Kaiba’s to color and mark at leisure.

 

In the living room—he would bind Yami’s wrists, press his face against the coffee table, run his finger up his naval, feel every muscle twitch and spasm like static along a cable. Yami’s hair laying in waves around his face, sweaty and red as Kaiba pulls his trousers to his ankles.

 

In the game room—surrounded by the innocent games that made them rivals, Kaiba would smudge out that last bit of purity, hooking Yami's knees over his shoulders, planes of his back circled in a halo of stray cards on his pool table. Yami calling his name, mouth bruised, brow lined with sweat.

 

The affair is less grandiose. They go to a guest room on the first floor, both walking, Kaiba awkwardly holding the door for Yami, playing with the lube and condom in his pocket. Yami keeps his nerves to himself and says very little, a yes or a no when Kaiba asks him what he wants to do and how he wants to do it. Yami sits on the bed, crosses both his legs and his arms, and waits for Kaiba to empty his pockets. He sets the supplies on the night table.

 

Kaiba's touch hesitates. Yami's face is blank, back stiff and posture like stone. But Yami doesn't flinch when the bed sags, when Kaiba sits himself only an inch away, or when Kaiba slips his hand behind Yami’s ear and rubs the skin there, tender and smooth like skin touched only to be washed and dried. Yami’s gaze remains trained on Kaiba’s nose, trained even when Kaiba presses their lips together and feels his warm breath, until Kaiba dares to press further, into Yami’s mouth. Yami closes his eyes and lets his arms rest at his sides.

 

When they break, Kaiba slips off his jacket and Yami pulls his shirt overhead and lays down. He's calm, relaxed— but Yami's pulse is beating like a strobe light in his neck, erratic, wild. The bed springs creak. Kaiba straddles his legs over Yami’s knees and kisses his neck, where the beating is strong, the place he is most alive.

 

There is no fighting, no dramatics. Nothing like he thought. How easy Yami rests his hands on Kaiba’s shoulders, Kaiba undoing their belts—he pulls Yami’s trousers down, Yami never demands they switch places, or stop.  


 

He's disappointed, but then Yami makes a face like he’s going to sneeze when Kaiba runs his hand over his cock—and the thought is banished, that one look worth everything to Kaiba. It’s now his and his alone.

 

Kaiba wonders what Yami is thinking. The grandfather clock chimes just as Kaiba sticks a finger up Yami's ass, exactly six a.m. It drowns out the noise Yami makes. He keeps his eyebrows ear level, only a small frown giving away the pain. Kaiba feels around, embarrassed, trying hard not to be.  


 

The lube isn't warm. He sticks a second finger in and Yami's toes curl like he's been stung. Still he stays silent.

 

It takes painfully long to prepare Yami, made longer by the silence. He’s used to shouting in Yami’s presence, but he has nothing to shout. There's nothing to say, not when he’s in the middle of fingering Yami’s ass.

 

Nervous, Kaiba breaks the condom. The package rips and tears the latex. There’s a second condom on the other side, but Yami sits up and takes it from him—and opens the second condom before Kaiba can break it too.

 

“…here.” Yami holds the condom out to him, and Kaiba takes it, tries to stifle his self-consciousness when Yami stares at his penis and watches him roll the condom on. He gives himself a quick stroke to make certain there’s no air—Yami nods and lays back down.

 

Kaiba thinks he should say something profound. But Yami stares up at him blankly, and nothing comes to him. All the blood rushes down,and Kaiba really sees Yami's nakedness for the first time, laid out on his sheets. The flat muscles of his torso, the small pink nipples pinched up from the morning air, the sweat gathering at his clavicles. How his teeth and eyes are the same shade of white.

 

“…” Kaiba can’t think what to say. He hates that, squashes the feeling and pushes inside. Yami’s rectum spasms, and Kaiba knows he screwed up. Pain crosses Yami’s face—eyes squinted close, teeth biting his cheek, fingers tight on Kaiba’s shoulders, back arching off the bed. Kaiba tries to pull out—Yami digs in his fingers to hold him, breathing heavily through his nose.

 

“Just, ah…wait a sec. It’s not bad,” Yami says.

 

Kaiba doesn’t believe him, not for a hot second. His rectum is tense, trying to squeeze him out by force—Yami tries to calm his breathing and adjust. Kaiba’s not halfway in, and the hole is mind-boggling tight, and Kaiba’s having trouble thinking, it feels so good.

 

Carefully, Kaiba leans and presses his mouth to Yami’s neck, kissing the skin, feeling that same erratic pulse, shaky and uneven—he should pull out. This is foolish. They aren’t lovers—they are hardly friends. They're horny and confused and Kaiba doesn’t know why he wants Yami’s ass and not some girl’s—why Yami lets him, encourages him between duels, in the corridors of the Battle City blimp, why he welcomes this still.

 

Yami swallows, and says, quietly, “I think I’m okay now. You can keep going, if you want.”

 

“Is that what you want?” Kaiba asks, tilting his hips forward a bit to gauge Yami’s reaction. Yami’s fingers dig into his shoulders at the movement, and his abdomen tightens like it’s preparing for a scalpel up his backside. But Yami nods, vigorously, like he’s desperate, still biting his cheek.

 

“Yes…I…it’s okay now. Keep going. Please.”

 

The sun is starting to rise, forming a hazel patch of light near the window. The opportunity to go uninterrupted will pass if they don’t continue—Kaiba’s house will be busy with staff looking for him. Kaiba pushes—pushes until Yami’s backside touches the top of his balls. Yami keeps from breaking the skin on Kaiba’s shoulders with his nails, channeling the pain down through his feet, arching them like spears into the mattress. He’s humming lowly in his throat, like he’s trying to numb out the pain with song.

 

“…is it okay?” Kaiba asks.

 

“‘Yeah, it’s…it’s alright. Kinda weird. Does it uh, feel good…inside me?”

 

Kaiba face turns red. “Just peachy.”

 

“That’s good, right?”

 

For the first time, there's eye contact, at a moment Kaiba feared would be awkward as hell for both of them. But Yami isn't awkward; a bit uncomfortable, yes, but the sheen of sweat on his skin has relaxed his harsh features, smoothed them to reveal a youthfulness he typically lacks, no longer proper and pharaoh-like. His knees hug Kaiba's sides, like he wants to keep Kaiba there forever, and it's unraveling Kaiba, these feelings are new and alien to him.

 

“I’m going to move now,” Kaiba says, rising up to his knees. He hangs on to the underside of Yami’s thighs.

 

Yami wraps his arms around Kaiba’s neck, pulling himself close to kiss Kaiba’s neck in return. “I’m ready.”

 

He makes little thrusts, finding a rhythm and watching, committing every detail to memory. Would they do this again? Would Yami want to, again—with him? Kaiba should feel relief getting this frustration out, relief so he can plunge back into his work—so he can stop imaging the color of Yami's pubic hair (it's black—just black. No funky-ass colors) or wondering what shade of violet he sees in Yami's eyes.  


 

But he's not relieved; panic is spreading inside his lungs. In five, ten minutes, they'll be done, this is it, he'll never see, _feel_ Yami like this again...

 

Yami is radiant, glowing, his grunts and moans mingle with Kaiba’s own. Yami hooks the crook of his elbow behind Kaiba’s neck, pulling them heart-to-heart, and hisses Kaiba's first name in his ear, _Seto, Seto more…faster…_

 

Something inside Kaiba is breaking, the very center of his heart as he kisses Yami on the lips, closes his eyes, sees with his heart.  


 

Yami’s voice goes wisp-thin as he says, “I…mhh…ah _,_ ” and Kaiba feels him seize up, feels his orgasm wreck all the way up his chest, his neck, his lidded eyes. Kaiba’s whole mouth goes dry and he shouts something, nothing, everything—he stills, hugs his arms around Yami’s back, pants against Yami’s nose, sweat-slicked and alive. Time is suspended, holding Yami, like this.

 

Yami slowly cards a hand up Kaiba’s neck, through his damp hair, to the center of Kaiba’s forehead, to the top of Kaiba’s lips. His small hand circles all of Kaiba’s mouth. He pulls his hand to his own mouth, and kisses it, eyes closed. “What was that for?” Kaiba asks.

 

“I’m saving one kiss for later. When life gets messy, and you hole up in your office. I’ll still have one, for then.”

 

Kaiba’s chest swims, and he closes the space between their mouths, to take a dozen kisses, because one would never be enough for him. The clock chimes somewhere in the house; but in the quiet guest room, time goes unmeasured. 


End file.
